Legally Buffy
by Lora Darcy
Summary: Buffy needs a good attorney and there’s only one person for the job. Enter Elle Woods.
1. O Slayer, Where Art Thou?

Title: Legally Buffy

Author: Lora Darcy

Email: lora_darcy@yahoo.com

Rating: PG-13

Distribution: ff.net, TTH, anyone else please just ask first

Disclaimer: Obviously Mutant Enemy and the great Joss Whedon, etc are owners of Buffy.  Legally Blonde is owned by Amanda Brown and the people over at MGM. 

Spoilers: Through the end of the first Legally Blonde movie, post-Chosen in the Buffy-verse.

Summary: Buffy needs a good attorney and there's only one person for the job.  Enter Elle Woods.

Author's Note: I'm trying to work on my two other fics when this idea hit and just refuses to go away, so here goes.  While the start may seem a tad serious, don't worry!  I'm big on comedy.  It will lighten up as things move on.  Don't worry.  Also, I'm not completely happy with this chapter and might go back and revise it later.  So if you have any suggestions, please give me a holler!

Part 1/?

            Buffy was shocked –completely shocked.  Things like this just weren't supposed to happen to her.  She was supposed to be the good slayer.  The one who generally played well with the higher ups, the one who routinely prevented apocalypses, the one who had died to save the world – twice.  This just wasn't right.  She wasn't supposed to be here.  

            The young girl's green eyes stared vacantly at the wall in front of her.  She slumped against a cement wall, for once in her life, completely overwhelmed by her circumstances.  Slowly, her eyes regained focus and the blonde slayer found herself staring at a sign, the only thing on the otherwise barren wall. Her eyebrows rose and she unconsciously clenched her hand into a fist.  The sign read "your ass is in the South Boston penitentiary."

            "You'd better hurry up," a cop informed her, roughly pushing the slayer towards a dirty telephone.  It took all of Buffy's strength not to hit the obese, rude, hairy Boston-Irish police "officer" who obviously got some sort of power-trip out of picking on prisoners.  "Remember- just get one call." The officer – Barry, Buffy amended reading the jerk's nametag – raised one finger and repeated "just one."  Buffy rolled her eyes.  Did the guy think she was stupid?  "Make it fast," sneered Barry, thrusting the receiver at Buffy.  "And stop being such a smart-ass."

            After taking the receiver from the cop, Buffy began to dial a number.  As her fingers hit the grubby digits, she thought back to the incidents that led to her false imprisonment.  

***

            Following the destruction of the First and the end of Sunnydale five months previous, Buffy had been amazed with her changed position.  Buffy was free.  She was no longer alone in the slayer business.  Now, girls all over the world had their own powers awakened.  For the first time in a long while, Buffy felt like she could make choices for herself.  At long last, she felt like she was on the road to recapturing her own humanity.  She was indeed cookie dough and now was time to slowly start baking.

            After a stop in Los Angeles for help (due to Sunnydale's destruction they were all broke, jobless, homeless, and without any possessions), the group had split up, scattering across the globe.  Faith and Wood headed to Cleveland to tackle its Hellmouth.  Eventually, Giles returned home to England, the few surviving former "potentials" with him.  Xander and Willow decided to stay in Los Angeles for a while, promising to visit the others soon.  The Summers sisters, however, had their own plans for the future.  They began a cross-country road trip that had ultimately sent them to Boston, MA.  Buffy decided to stay in New England for a while.  She wanted to see a city covered and snow and, besides, Dawn did sort of need to go to school.  So, the two sisters eventually found a very small apartment and, after a series of brief jobs that rivaled Doublemeat Palace in gross-out potential, Buffy managed to snag work as a teen counselor at a local community center.  It wasn't much, but hey, money was money.

            Things were going well.  Buffy enjoyed her new, more relaxed, work-some, slay-some life-style.  It was kind of nice not to have to have the world resting on her shoulders.  Dawn even seemed to like her new school.  

            Then, of course, along came the inevitable apocalypse threat.  Willow had contacted Buffy to let her know that a big bad was in Boston and their was fear of massive death, end of the world, yadda yadda yadda.  But after life on the Hellmouth, Buffy figured she could handle this latest baddie no sweat.  And Buffy had handled the demon just fine.  It was the afterwards bit that seemed to be the problem.  Turned out that when he wasn't trying to go out and destroy the world, her demon also happened to be a very human-looking member of a popular boy-band.  Like Buffy was supposed to know this?  And even so, evil is evil.  And those boy-bands were way evil even before the disguised demon entered the picture.

            Only, somehow the local police just didn't get why Buffy was found in the middle of a Boston alley standing next to Michael Donahue's body, pulling a long sword out of his chest.  And it didn't help that Buffy was also armed with a crossbow, small knife, and numerous wooden stakes. Why did Buffy always have to be accused of murdering someone?  Really, doesn't being a superhero mean anything these days?  You never heard of that sort of thing happening to Superman.

***

            The phone continued to ring and ring.  Finally, a groggy voice answered.  "Yeah?"

            "Hi Dawnie," Buffy said, as cheerfully as she could manage.  "Are you doing alright? I'm going to need you to call Angel.  We need to find a criminal lawyer, pronto.  Make it a really good criminal lawyer, super-pronto.  I'm sort of having a problem that requires me to wear a big orange jumpsuit…."


	2. Sleep Interrupted

Title: Legally Buffy

Author: Lora Darcy

Email: lora_darcy@yahoo.com

Rating: PG-13

Distribution: ff.net, TTH, anyone else please just ask first

Disclaimer: Obviously Mutant Enemy and the great Joss Whedon, etc are owners of Buffy.  Legally Blonde is owned by Amanda Brown and the people over at MGM. 

Spoilers: Through the end of the first Legally Blonde movie, post-Chosen in the Buffy-verse.

Summary: Buffy needs a good attorney and there's only one person for the job.  Enter Elle Woods.

Feedback: Please, please send in reviews! Give me any comments/suggestions/etc you can think of.  PLEASE!

Author's Note:  Just a quick chapter for you guys.  Thanks to those of you who have sent in reviews!  I really appreciate your support and comments!  Thank you.

Part 2/?

The phone rang.  Elle Woods rolled over in her bed, glancing over at her clock.  Its pink letters read 12:38. "Bruiser, we'll just let the answering machine get it.  Mommy has to do a lot of work tomorrow and…"  Elle trailed off, yawning.

The phone continued to ring.

"I'm trying to sleep here," the blonde mumbled, putting a rose-colored silk pillow over her head. If only the noise would go away…

The phone still continued to ring.  Now, a small, high-pitched bark joined in.

"Bruiser!  Come back to bed with Mommy…"

For a second, Elle heard silence.  Then, the phone began to ring again.

The pillow on top of Elle's head slowly began to slide off, as fur began to tickle her face.  "Okay Bruiser, okay."  A perfectly manicured hand picked up the Chihuahua dog.  Elle sat up in bed.  Obviously, there was something wrong with her answering machine.

One hand still petting the petite dog, Elle reached over to her fuzzy hot-pink telephone.  She raised the phone to her ear, careful to keep it from smudging her green night-time face mask.  "Margot, how many times do I have to remind you?  Boston's in a totally different time zone than back home.  You have to add four hours every time you call.  Serena even made you the little chart and everything…."

"This isn't Margot." A male voice replied.  "Miss Woods, I'm sorry about the late hour, but I'm afraid this is a bit of an emergency."

Elle was suddenly very worried.  "Is there something wrong with Emmet?  Did Daddy back into Aaron Spelling's porche again?  Is everyone okay?"

"As far as I know, Emmet's fine.  You're family's fine."

"Oh."  Elle paused for a moment, perplexed.  "Then what do you want?"

"Brooke Taylor Windham referred you to me actually," The voice replied.

"And you are who exactly?"

"Call me Angel."


	3. The Blonde Connection

Title: Legally Buffy 3/?

Author: Lora Darcy

Email: lora_darcy@yahoo.com

Rating: PG-13

Distribution: ff.net, TTH, anyone else please just ask first

Disclaimer: Obviously Mutant Enemy and the great Joss Whedon, etc are owners of Buffy.  Legally Blonde is owned by Amanda Brown and the people over at MGM. 

Spoilers: Through the end of the first Legally Blonde movie, post-Chosen in the Buffy-verse.

Summary: Buffy needs a good attorney and there's only one person for the job.  Enter Elle Woods.

Feedback: Please, please send in reviews! Give me any comments/suggestions/etc you can think of.  PLEASE!  I want to make this story the best that it can be and would love help from you guys.

Author's Note: Yup, this chapter's longer! See? Hope ya'll like it.  Thanks to everyone who has read this.  Thanks to "OOOOO" and "S.M" for their reviews.  Also, please *please* send in reviews.  I know from Twisting the Hellmouth that I've been getting a lot of hits, but not many reviews.  So please, give me any helpful tips, comments, or feedback you can think of.  It'd be really helpful.  Thanks for reading!

Chaotic Reign: Glad you're liking it.  Sorry, but at the current time, I have no ship plans for Buffy (due to the fact that she's in jail for much of this fic…) I haven't decided for sure, however.  So things might change as I go along! :)

Mystic Queen: Yay! You think this is funny.  Yay!  Yes, I'm thinking that Buffy might be a little surprised by Elle.  Can you say Buffy pre-slayer?

Sam: Glad you like my unique story.  I always try to do something different.

Majin: I'm sorry you didn't like the length of my previous chapters.   I really don't create any set length for chapters in any of my stories. I just sort of go where my muse leads me.  When I feel I've reached a good stopping point, I stop.  Basically, I just wanted to introduce Elle in the last chapter.  Sorry you disagreed with my decision.  I hope you like this chapter a bit better.

BunnyKat: Yup, Angel's called Elle.  Someone's gotta help the Buffster out…

Hecatonchires: Thank you for your nice compliments.  They were very encouraging!  I know that chapter was short.  Like I said above, however, I've tried to make this one a bit longer.  Please let me know if I still could use improvement with this, etc.  I'm grateful for any advice!

Part 3/? **The Blonde Connection**

Elle Woods pursed her lips, thinking.  For what seemed like the hundredth time that day, she looked over the papers for her latest possible case. None of them looked good.   Unfortunately, Sunnydale's devastating earthquake had not destroyed Buffy's criminal records.  The city may have sunk beneath the earth, but the wonders of the internet had preserved most of Buffy Anne Summer's colorful files.  And Elle had the sinking suspicion that the few papers missing from Buffy's folder had not been from peaceful protests.  No, it looked like that Buffy was quite the troublemaker.

The previous night –well, technically that morning– Elle had promised that Angel man that she would look at Buffy's case.  Of course, at the time, she had no idea what a challenge it would be.  For once in her life, Elle had no idea what to do.  She had no game plan.  No great idea.  No….  Elle glanced up, suddenly inspired.  Why hadn't she thought of this sooner?  It was exactly what she needed!

A pink-chair swiveled around and Elle buoyantly strutted down the hallway.  "I'm outie," She announced to her secretary, unnecessarily.  She smiled brightly, adding, "I have some work I need to get done.  On that possible Summers' case.  Be back by four, 'kay?"  Elle paraded out of her office, her Louis Vuitton heels clicking joyfully on the hard-wood floors.

****

 Mere minute's later, Elle Wood's red jaguar slammed in front of a Cambridge beauty salon.  Barely remembering to lock her car, Elle raced inside the business, her dog Bruiser running at her heels.  "Paulette.  Please tell me you've got a minute!  It's an *emergency.*"

Pushing away her reading material (an outdated issue of National Enquirer), a curvy, thirty-something manicurist nodded and grinned at Elle.  "You know I always got time for you," Paulette responded in a light Boston accent.  She pulled out her favorite nail filer and Elle's traditional hot pink nail polish.  "So spill.  What's bothering you?"

"I'm just so glad you're free."  Elle smiled as her friend took one of her hands.  Already things were improving.  She was so glad she thought of coming to the salon.  Manicures always helped her feel better and she was sure Paulette could give her some good advice on her potential murder trial.  "I'm not sure what to do about this one.  Usually, my instincts are so good, you know?  But last night it's like my instincts on this all disappeared.  This man called me wanting me to take up the trial of his girlfriend or whoever."  Elle lowered her voice, conspiratorially.  "She's the one they say killed Michael Donahue."

Paulette gasped.  "That singer guy?  No….  Well, what are you gonna do?"

"See, that's my problem.  I don't know.  I told Angel, he's the one who called me, that I'd think about it.  But this looks tough.  Way tougher than anything I've done before.  I mean, she looks totally guilty.  Been accused of murder before.  Disorderly conduct, too.  None of it looks like it's pointing to a 'completely innocent' kind of thing."

Paulette sympathetically patted her friend's wet hand.  "I know what you mean.  This is one hard dilemma you're in.  Sounds even harder than finding a way to keep my boobs from sagging after breasting feeding a baby."

"I told you," Elle said, shaking her head.  "All the movie stars are using breast pumps now and everything.  So you don't have to have that problem or anything.  But, you're right, this is even harder than that.  It's like… finding a model who doesn't use Botox injections."

"Have you met her yet?" Paulette blushed, and shook her head.  "That was a stupid question to ask…"

Elle perked up.  "No, I think that's a good idea.  I mean, I'd have to meet her soon.  Maybe if I go down and talk to her before anything's official, it'll help.  You know how I like to have clients who are innocent.  I bet if I go down and talk to her she'll turn to be good.  Maybe things will look up once we've had a chat.  My first case with Brooke turned out perfectly."

"Right!" Paulette said with so much gusto that she knocked over the lamp on her table.  "Wooops…."

****

Elle cautiously emerged from the Orange Line T stop.  This was not a place she had ever wanted to ride the subway to.  Or ever drive by in a locked car for that matter.  It was seedy, dirty, and dangerous, all-rolled into one.  Never before had Elle felt she stood out more.  Her blonde hair, designer clothes, and pink heels set her at odds from the rest of the street.  She glanced down at Bruiser, glad of her dog's company.  She just hoped she wouldn't need him to do a Lassie impersonation.  

Resolutely, Elle walked toward the jail, ignoring a homeless man's plead for change.  If she took on Buffy as a client, Elle was going to have to move her somewhere nice.  Like that prison in Concord.  That city's historical and filled with tourists looking for revolutionary soldiers and stuff.  It must be safer…

It took all of Elle's powers of persuasion to arrange a meeting with Miss Summers.  Somehow, the gruff security personnel had trouble believing that Buffy was her step-sister.  At last, however, she'd managed to get into the visitors area.  "Here goes nothing," Elle muttered under her breath, taking a seat at her assigned cubicle.  She picked up the telephone receiver, careful not to smudge her still-fresh nails.

A short girl with dirty-blonde hair slowly trudged her way towards Elle's cubicle, a confused expression on her face.  The girl warily sized up Elle before sitting down.  "Who are you?" She asked instantly, cutting right to the chase.  Buffy wanted to know what this meeting was all about….

Elle couldn't answer.  She was too absorbed in studying the prisoner before her.  Buffy looked nothing like her mug-shot.  She was so tiny and thin, almost fragile.  Only her eyes looked dangerous.  Eyes that showed pain, death, and someone who had obviously been forced to grow up way too quickly.  Eyes aside, however, Elle thought there was something slightly familiar about Buffy.  But what?  Elle couldn't remember every knowing anyone like her….

"Who are you?"  Buffy repeated, uneasy.  She wanted answers.  Who was this Barbie Doll and why had she claimed to be her step-sister?  She just desperately hoped this wasn't the help Angel had promised….


End file.
